


A Family in the Flames

by proudlygoingnowhere



Series: Beyond the Garden Wall [3]
Category: Sing Street (2016)
Genre: Angst, Dark Eamon, M/M, Sing Street - Freeform, present day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 10:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10410291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proudlygoingnowhere/pseuds/proudlygoingnowhere
Summary: Writing angst is fun. I hope you enjoyed.





	

The moment Conor woke up the next morning, he sensed that something was wrong. Maybe _wrong_ wasn't the right word, but more  _unsettling._ His bedroom window was completely fogged from the outside with smoke ( _what_ was with all the smoke in this neighborhood?), and through the thin walls of his room he could hear someone crying in frustration. He stumbled out of bed and tried to look through the window to see what was going on, but found that the window was too high and too clouded. Conor rummaged through his closet and pulled out a random outfit. He quickly got dressed and slipped into his shoes, then dashed out the back door.

The crying was growing more agonizing, and it seemed to be coming from the yard next door, Eamon's yard. At first, Conor didn't think much of it, since Eamon didn't seem like the crying type, but who else would be in Eamon's backyard but Eamon himself? Conor clambered up the wall and peered over it to see his neighbor clutching a lighter and kneeling in the grass in front of a homemade fire, the flames flickering in the early morning light. Next to the fire was a stack of photos and a few of Eamon's belongings, waiting to be lodged into the fire and lost forever.

"Eamon, what's going on?" Conor shouted over Eamon's screams. When he realized that Eamon couldn't hear him, he swung his legs over the wall and slid into his neighbor's yard. " _Eamon!"_

Eamon stopped crying for just a moment to look up at Conor. His eyes were red and tears were flowing down his cheeks so much that it seemed as if they'd never stop. His jacket and shirt were covered in dirt and soot, and for once he looked less intimidating and disparaging, and more helpless and distraught. "Conor, you need to leave." The words were barely audible through choking sobs, but Conor could understand them.

"Why are you lighting a fire at eight in the morning?" Conor asked. "And why are you burning your stuff?"

Eamon shook his head and wiped his nose with his jacket sleeve. "I'm fucking fed up with all the _shit_ that the world keeps throwing at me," he said angrily. He picked up one of the photos in the pile and studied it for a brief moment. Conor squinted his eyes and could just make out the shapes of a young boy and girl playing in a garden, and two middle-aged people watching nearby. Before he could process the whole photo, Eamon sighed heavily and carelessly threw it into the flames. He picked up another photo and prepared to get rid of that one too, when Conor rushed over and grabbed Eamon's wrist. He snatched the photo out of his hands and held it out of reach. " _What the hell are you doing?"_

 _"_ They're  _gone_ ," Eamon spat, breaking free from his grasp while sending daggers at him. However, he wasn't making an attempt to snatch the photo back. 

" _Who_ is gone?" Conor demanded.

"My  _entire fucking family!"_

That response was a lot more extreme than Conor was expecting. "Eamon," he said, trying to calm down, "can you take a moment to breathe for a second? Maybe tell me exactly what's going on?"

Eamon considered this, then gulped and wiped his bloodshot eyes. "Fine, just... sit. And if I'm gonna tell you the whole thing you've got to promise not to go away."

"I won't," Conor said firmly, kneeling in the grass next to him.

"I grew up in the most loving household I could ever imagine," Eamon started, still struggling to fight back more tears. "My dad, he was the owner of a pretty huge corporation and probably the most intelligent person in my whole life. He once taught me survival skills by taking me on a week-long retreat to live in the woods, which was the best thing we ever did together. My mum was a stay-at-home kind of person and she always made sure everything was in order around the house, and that we were doing well at work and in school and such, and she gave the best life advice when things were rough. They were the sweetest parents who were the most supportive people I've ever known, and they always encouraged me to do what I wanted to do and be who I wanted to be, regardless of what others wanted for me.

"When I was fifteen my parents died in a car crash, coming back from a business trip. A drunk driver hit the side of their car, sending them flying... they were dead seconds after the vehicle hit the ground and caught fire. When I was made aware of what happened I was diagnosed with severe depression and I was absolutely miserable for weeks. I quit high school and stopped seeing my friends, no matter how many times they tried to call me and ask if I was okay."

Eamon paused to catch his breath and gather his thoughts.

"I also had a little sister, y'know," he continued, biting his lip. "Rose. She was four years younger than me, and probably the one person I loved more than my parents. She was bright and cheerful and smart and knew how to make me feel better by telling me funny stories about her day. When our parents died, I didn't want to live at home anymore, so I packed up some of my belongings and took Rose and we lived on the streets for a little while. Soon our food supply was diminishing and I eventually convinced myself that I couldn't support the both of us while we were on the run, so I made the difficult choice of leaving Rose at the city orphanage. It broke my heart to ditch her, but I thought that the orphanage would take much better care of her than I ever could. After abandoning my sister I continued to live on the streets for almost two years, eating out of trash cans and making do with the plants that grew around the neighborhood. I eventually found a job at a diner on the other side of town, which didn't pay much, but it was much better than nothing. Eventually I earned enough money to buy this run-down condo, and I've been living here for over a year."

"Wow," Conor said. "I can't believe you've lived on your own for that long."

"My dad taught me well," Eamon said stiffly. "Anyway, I thought maybe now that I'm sort of back on my feet again, I could retrieve Rose from the orphanage, since I can sort of support her now."

"Ah, that'd be really nice," Conor said, forcing a smile.

Eamon looked at him, his eyes filling with tears again. "I got a call from the orphanage earlier this morning, Conor," he said. "And _a_ _pparently_ , there's been some sort of extreme illness going around amongst the kids living there, and _apparently_ it hit my sister a month ago. She was put in intensive care for a  _month_ and  _no one_ ever bothered to call me to tell me that until  _just now_ , and they only really called  _now_ because they wanted me to know that she's  _dead_." The last part he said through clenched teeth, his body shaking with rage. "And you know what makes it  _worse_? If I hadn't been such a selfish  _prick_ , there's a chance that I actually could've taken care of the both of us, which means that she could have avoided the orphanage and she might not have gotten a life-threatening illness and she might still be  _alive!_ Do you hear me, Conor?  _THIS IS ALL MY FAULT_ _!!_ "

Eamon let out an ear-piercing wail and crumbled into Conor's arms, soaking Conor's shirt with his tears. Without even hesitating, Conor wrapped his arms around the trembling figure in his lap and held him close.

This time Eamon didn't try and pull away. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Writing angst is fun. I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
